Lady Penterton lay, only her lips moving nervously, inaudibly, while the two girls watched her with anxiety. At last she opened her eyes; her lips closed tightly and it was obvious that she was making a great effort to regain the self-possession from which she had been so startlingly shaken. “I should like to see him,” she said. “Oh, mother!” exclaimed Celia in protest. “He has been with me most of my life,” answered Lady Penterton simply. “I felt the same,” said Evelyn in a low voice to Celia; “it will distress her more if she doesn’t.” Then to Lady Penterton, “I will fetch him.” “Thank you, dear.” Lady Penterton closed her eyes again with a little sigh as of a weariness almost intolerable. Evelyn went downstairs and found Humblethorne and Birts on the point of departure with Fairlie in their custody. “I have just been with Lady Penterton and told her,” she said; “she wishes to see Fairlie. May she? He has been with her so long she feels she cannot let him go without saying a few words to him.” “Well,” said Humblethorne, “it’s not exactly regular, but I don’t see that there can be any harm in stretching a point.” “It can do no good,” said Fairlie. “I do not wish to see her ladyship in these altered circumstances.” “Oh, Fairlie,” exclaimed the girl, “it will distress her so much more if she doesn’t. Do this for her at least.” Fairlie kept his eyes upon the ground and hesitated a long while. “It can do no good,” he repeated doggedly. “I am afraid she will be really ill unless she is given in to in this little way. It need only be for a moment.” “Well, for a moment, Miss Evelyn.” He straightened his bowed shoulders. “But I am sure you will appreciate how painful it is for me.” “Yes, yes, I know, but just for a moment. She will feel less unhappy afterwards.” He signified that he assented, and the four of them went upstairs to the bedroom. Evelyn knocked and entered first. “He is here, Aunt Eleanor,” she said, “but he did not wish to come.” “Fairlie, Fairlie!” cried the old lady, sitting up in her emotion with a sudden accession of strength. “What does this mean?” He remained obstinately silent; before the mistress he had served so long and faithfully it was evident that he found it difficult to maintain the air of stolid, half-resigned, half-defiant gloom which had settled down upon him like a cloak; he shifted uneasily from one foot to another, he kept his eyes on the carpet, and his breath came irregularly.